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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270241">The Devil and Death</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnChild/pseuds/SaturnChild'>SaturnChild</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fratt Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Almost smut, Angst, Blood and Injury, Breaking and Entering, Canon Disabled Character, Flirting, Fluff, Fratt Week, Fratt Week 2020, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, Hurt Frank Castle, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Nicknames, Prompt: skull, Protective Frank Castle, Sensitive Matt Murdock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:47:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,659</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270241</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaturnChild/pseuds/SaturnChild</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank brings death in his hands for those who deserve it. Matthew is the blind, catholic lawyer with the devil lurking within.<br/>They meet in the middle of all chaos.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Frank Castle/Matt Murdock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Fratt Week 2020 [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1988260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>140</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Devil and Death</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I was a bit stumped on how to write today's prompt, but it eventually came out. Lots of angst and fluff and even a hint of smut.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           His hands are squeezing into tight fists around the handle of his billy clubs, body taut and graceful in a practice fighting stance. He’s wearing comfortable clothes but he doesn’t feel in any disadvantage at this point. Matt’s been through it all, it’s not even the first time someone breaks into his apartment. He just hopes that, this time, the person is not there for him but simply in the wrong place.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Well, his paranoia won’t let him believe that. So Matt’s ready to strike when whoever was on the other side of the door to the rooftop finally managed to pick the lock. It didn’t take much of a whiff for the lawyer to recognize the scent of gunpowder, blood, dark coffee and cigarettes. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Frank?” he immediately let’s go of the billy clubs, recognizing the uneven heat of fresh wounds, the creaking of cracked ribs, the sloshing of blood flowing out of the body, tasting the mixture of coppery tang of blood and alloy from the knife that gave him the stab wound. The elder just grunts in assent, Matt running up the stairs quickly to help him down.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hiya there Red” the Punisher mumbles by his side, Murdock hearing the creaking of a cracked nose (once again) and blood dripping into his lips. He could feel the heat of bruised areas all over the man’s body as he slang his hair over his shoulders and helped him to the sofa. “Thought I’d pay a visit, missed those red pajamas of yours” Matt shakes his head, sighing. The billboard lights probably the only thing illuminating the living room of his studio loft. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Bit more than you could chew, Frank?” he asks, already cataloging all the injuries that need attending in his head. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Aw, you know me Red” and indeed, Matt knew. He had no doubts in his mind that Frank chewed it all alright. He’s glad he is blind, wouldn’t want to know how the other guys looked. Although he smell two different blood types in the man’s clothes. Sets himself to work and grabs his first aid kit.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Well, let’s take care of this cut on your arm first” the lawyer suggests, pointing in the general direction he hopes is Frank’s wounded arm. There’s a knife wound, horizontal, from his elbow to his forearm. Maybe half an inch deep, bleeding profusely. He kneels in front of him, holding a makeshift bandage to stop the blood flow. Giving a needle and thread to the man. “Can you put it for me, please?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “What the hell, why not Pretty Boy” he acquiesces, taking the offered items in unsteady hands but probably managing it way better than Matt ever could. Although his senses are incredibly sharp, they really don’t substitute sight and it takes him ages to get a thread through the needle hole. Usually he asks Foggy to leave him some already prepared for when he needs them. Matt tries not to think about the nickname, maybe Frank’s already lost more blood than he had thought. “There ya go” he gives him back the needle and Murdock puts himself to work.           </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Stitching other people is almost a self-soothing gesture by this point in Matthew’s life. It reminds him of his father, the texture of his five o’clock shadow or when he’d let his beard grow a little. The sharp curve of his nose, crooked from being broken way too many times. He wondered if Frank’s nose would feel the same under his sensitive fingertips. He wonders, in general, how Castle looks like.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You’re good at this” the man mumbles, carefully hidden surprise under his steady heartbeat and the overall tiredness in his tone. Matt grins at the words, wondering if Frank didn’t expect that from a blind man. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I’ve been doing this for a long time” he offers, hand’s steadily feeling over the length of the wound, he on the eight stitch by now, would probably need three or four more. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Me too, but you’re better anyways” Matt’s smile turns amused and bigger at the other’s answer.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Frank, careful. With all the praise, I’ll think you’re trying to woo me” he teases, and maybe it helps that his hands finally close the last stitch on the arm lesion, coming impossibly close to bite the end of the thread and cut it. He can smell Frank’s soap mixing with his sweat, smoke and a deeply organic scent of skin and leftover adrenaline thrumming through his bloodstream. There’s also dirt and grime from all the fighting, gunpowder, gun oil. It mixed together into a heady, overpowering scent.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Why Red, you’ll know when I’m wooing you” Matt pauses slightly with the answer. Frank is always deliberate with what he speaks, Murdock has come to understand. He always chooses his words carefully, and the ‘when’ is his phrase is what gives the smaller one a pause. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I’ll let you know, I’m not that kinda boy Frank” he jokes back, although he recognizes the overture Castle presents him; a possibility of a different element on their relationship. It had been professional at best, until then. Chaotic at most. With Matthew being the catholic, idealistic blind lawyer turned devil-themed vigilante. And Frank being the man in the skull vest, Punisher of those who, in his morals, deserve death. But they had always been respectful and always acknowledged the other. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Yeah?” the marine asks in the deep, gruff voice of his. “What kinda boy are you, Matty?” the nickname sure gives him another pause, but he doesn’t stop there, smiling carefully in that way Foggy told him looked dangerously charming.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Take off your shirt, big guy” his voice is softer than he’d use in another context, but he hears the hitch in Frank’s breath and heartbeat, and his smile widens for a bit. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Now who is trying to woo who here, Red?” he mumbles under his breath, and Matt just chuckles. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I need to see that graze and the cut, they’ll both need stitches. And so will the slice on your cheek” the man grunts in assent and Matt helps him take off his shirt. Goes right back to work. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You didn’t answer me, Red. What kinda boy are you?” Matt smiles around the thread he holds between his lips for the next wound, taking it in his hands and giving them to Frank, so he can prepare them. The younger sighs, thinking for a moment or two.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Well, first of all. I tend to make sure my first dates don’t involve one or both parties bleeding all over my sofa” Frank snorts loudly at this, head turning in his direction once more. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Got that”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Secondly, call me old fashioned, but I love flowers” he expects Frank to laugh at this again, as he had been aiming, although it isn’t really a lie. But the man doesn’t, although there’s still a smile on his bloody lips.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Yeah? Didn’t see that one coming, Red” he hisses a bit when Matt finishes the last stitch on the grazed bullet on his side. “But, noted anyway. What else?” he can feel how the man’s muscles coil a bit, this one is probably hurting more than the knife wound. The redhead can feel the heat irradiating from his skin, small burst veins darkening the skin around the damage. He indulges him in giving the man a distraction.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Love coffee dates, if I’m being honest. And then...” the man seems to tense for a whole other reason as Matt comes close, thin hair brushing against the marine’s abdomen as he cuts the thread with his teeth once more. The musk of arousal he can smell in the air makes his body twitch, and the lawyer has to fight not to squirm in his place by Frank’s side. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “And then?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Well, then... if I like them, which doesn’t happen as often as Foggy would lead you to believe, I let them take me home” the smell is even stronger now and Matt can hear how Frank’s usually steady heartbeat picks up speed again. It’s heady and Matt has to fight not to melt. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Castle hums low in his throat, almost a growl in nature, acknowledging his words. Matt can hear his own heartbeat pumping blood faster through his body and clouding his mind. He finishes the stab wound to Frank’s lower abdomen and tries not to marvel at the tightness of the man’s muscles. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           It comes as a surprise when Frank’s thick, work roughened fingers find their way into his auburn hair, caressing through the strands for a second. Maybe he’s already faint with the blood loss, sleep muddling his choices, but his fingers are steady as they comb through the length of his hair. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You’re soft all over, aren’t ya?” and Matt tries not to, but he can feel how the blood rushes to his face and overpowers his will. Frank probably notices that, because he chuckles in that deep, gravely tone of his. The smaller of the two squirms a bit, trying not to tremble under the attention and the words. But it’s almost a lost fight. Frank is an amazing people reader and he sees right through him. “Yeah, you like that, sunshine?” he chuckles quietly as Matt stands up, knees wobbly. His mouth opens and close once, twice and again before he finds his voice again.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I... do, actually” It gets the reaction he expects. Dips the power dynamics into Matt’s hands for a second. Frank’s heartbeat betrays his arousal and so does his scent. He smiles to the man. “You should rest, Frank. You lost a lot of blood. You’re welcome to shower if you want to, won’t let you dirty my sheets”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I ain’t taking your bed, altar boy” </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Tough luck, Frank, my house, my call” </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Next time it happens, Matt gets way in over his head with the Italian mob. He’s shot on the shoulder, can feel the bullet as it goes through him and another ones grazes his thigh. He disarms the man, trying not to wobble on his feet as he kicks him in the chin and punches his smaller friend square on the nose. They both are knocked out, but Matty is too slow and has a second to sense the knife coming closer and dodge to the right. It still stabs him in the side, but thankfully he isn’t in any danger of getting stabbed in the lungs. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           After that, Matt doesn’t stand much of chance, so he focuses on getting away. The cops are on their way, anyway, so they’ll apprehend at least the unconscious mobsters Daredevil left for them. He is bleeding from too many places for him to count, some he hadn’t even noticed. Stumbles to the nearest rooftop and calls the only person skilled enough that could get to him unnoticed and help him out of there. His thigh and shoulder burn endlessly, but his side screams in pain, the knife still lodged in there. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Red? You alright?” he hadn’t even noticed he had already made the call, probably loosing more blood than he had realized. He coughs a bit and notices the sounds of Frank putting on shoes and getting his keys. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hm... dunno, not really’” he slurs out, hands holding onto the wound on his shoulder, since it was the one bleeding the most. Thankfully the bullet was out, the one in his tight, despite being a graze, was woven into the meat, stuck there. “I’m in the roo- rooftop of... a building, at the 53</span>
  <sup>
    <span class="tm5">rd</span>
  </sup>
  <span class="tm5"> with 10</span>
  <sup>
    <span class="tm5">th</span>
  </sup>
  <span class="tm5"> street. I think there’s a neon sign close to me, it’s buzzin’ real loud” he croaks out carefully.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You be good there, Red. Hang on there, keep talking to me, I’m close, ‘kay?” </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “’kay.. Hey, Frank?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Yeah, Red?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I don’ really like lav-...” he moans in pain for a bit, the knife shifting in his side. “lavenders... and roses...” Frank chuckles quietly, although his voice is strained with worry, mind taking him to their conversation weeks before.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Is that so, sweetheart? Why’s that?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hm... makes me sneeze lots..” Matt giggles, what a funny word. </span>
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">Sneeze.</span>
  </em>
  <span class="tm5"> Like </span>
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">Squeeze. </span>
  </em>
  <span class="tm5">Those were funny words.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hey, sweetheart? Listen to me okay? I need you to stay awake, red. Don’t you go to sleep now” </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Oh.. ‘kay Frank, wha’ever you say” he giggles quietly at that, Frank’s voice is so nice to listen to. He could listen to his voice forever. “’ey Frank?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I’m here, red”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “’u called me sweetheart, ‘didyu know that?” Frank chuckles quietly at that, heart aching inside his chest. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">I can’t lose another one. Please don’t make me lose another one.</span>
  </em>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span class="tm5">“I did, didn’t I?” he finally gets to the rooftop, noticing the neon sign parallel to a building the size of those Daredevil usually did his acrobatics around. “I’m coming for you, okay, Red?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hm.. ‘m sleepy Frank” he hears his voice through the burner phone and close to him, and keeps climbing faster on the fire escapes of the building. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You can’t sleep right now, you hear me kid?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hmm.. ‘m not a kid” his voice sounds closer, so Frank finishes climbing to the rooftop. As soon as he re-orientates himself, the marine discerns those red clad legs, and a small pool of blood by his right thigh. Hanging up the call, and seeing Red already turning his head with that small head tilt of his. The younger male had taken off his helmet, hands holding his burner phone close to his chest, one leg curled tight next to his body. “’ey Frank. I thin’ I hav’ a tunnel on my shoulder”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You goddamn idiot” he huffs, taking the man by his knees and back, carrying him close to his chest. “Common Matty, let’s get ya patched up”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Hm.. sleep now Fran’...” the elder’s voice fades away into the background and Matt welcomes the much needed rest. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Matt probably wakes up sooner than Frank expected him too, already sitting himself up in bed with not as much difficulty as one with two gunshot wounds, a stab to the side and cuts and bruises all over him should feel. The man in question scoffs in amusement more than anything else, tinged with disbelief as he looks at the lawyer.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You know what, Red? Sometimes I really think you’re the devil” Matt chuckles, a bit embarrassed by how out of it he was the night before. Patting himself down for his injuries and feeling how well taken cared of he had been. He tries not to blush at being down to his underwear, he understands the necessity. “You feeling any pain? I reckon the meds should be holding still, but you’re already up so maybe I didn’t give ya the right amount”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “No.. no it’s good. Thank you, Frank.” he says, honestly. Smiling genuinely and sweetly at the man, soft expressions take the Punisher off guard. “You didn’t need to come but you did anyway, and you even patched me right up”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Well, had to return the favor, didn’t I?” Matt shakes his head with a smile, but doesn’t comment. “And maybe it’s all in my plan to seduce ya, Murdock.” he teases and Matt laughs at the unexpected comeback. “Want any food, sunshine? Got some eggs and bacon around here”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Oh... yes, please” </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           They eat and talk and banter with a surprisingly amount of ease. Somehow, their conversation shift in between talking about how Foggy, Karen and Matt were adapting into building a new business by themselves. To parenting, surprisingly, and then to Frank’s day work at a local shelter for strays. Frank talks passionately about the dogs he takes care of, and Matt tells him about a pit bull owner they had represented not long ago. And then, Matt finds out Frank has a thing for classic books. Frank, in turn, finds out about Matt’s ridiculously strong opinions about weather forecast. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Come on, Frank, it’s ridiculous. The only thing they’re ever right about is the air humidity percentage. I can never trust them! They say it’ll be sunny and I can feel the air currents just blowing over all the clouds to Hell’s Kitchen, taste the electricity in the air begging for thunder and then it rains like a deluge and people still hear it!”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Red, lemme tell you, I never thought I’d see the day you had a stronger opinion about something else than my morals” they laugh at the absurdity of it all, Frank shaking his head, amused at the man. He can see, however, how Matt’s getting a bit paler with all the talking, so he offers to take him back to bed for a nap. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Why, Frank, you hit on every helpless blind catholic that come to your home?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Nah, you’re just special, sunshine” and it hits the man right then how much truth is hidden in his words. Matt can hear it in his heartbeat as it quickens, but doesn’t comment, only beams at the man. “You take a nap, I’ll call that friend of yours and tell ‘em you’ll be home by 9”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Such a gentleman, Castle”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Aw, shut up”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Frank indeed takes him home to rest that day, asking Nelson to keep an eye on him. Red thanks him way more than necessary, but it’s one of his quirks and the man can’t help but find it endearing. Nelson is scared of him at first, then downright angry at his friend for his recklessness on taking a mob by himself. Eventually though, he squints at them interacting, gaze searching and analyzing. Nelson is a cupcake, but he sure is intelligent and when his eyes glint in realization and amusement, Frank slips away as quickly as he can. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           It doesn’t last long, anyway. Frank’s worried about the Devil boy, wants to make sure the idiot isn’t jumping around like a monkey through the rooftops of Hell’s Kitchen. So he heads to the blind lawyer’s loft four days later, hoping Nelson had been able to keep the hard-headed vigilante in bed rest for at least the first two days. Stab wounds so close to the lungs are a no-no, even a stubborn killing machine like Castle can understand that.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           Well, apparently Nelson had been effective. When he gets through the rooftop access, Red is moping in the sofa, reading a book with his fingertips. It’s interesting to see his eyes lost somewhere on the opposite wall, those plush lips in a pout, floppy, soft hair falling in his forehead.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Morning, sunshine”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Morning, Frank” Red, honest to god, </span>
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">beams </span>
  </em>
  <span class="tm5">at Frank. And he is used to many things when people see him. Horror, fear, desperation, avoidance? All in the good. The only people, nowadays, that seem actually happy to see him are Curtis and, sometimes, David. Red is news. But that’s not really what makes him pause in his footsteps. He pauses because Murdock stands up, the soft quilt falling from his lap and Frank can’t process the man’s clothing.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           First of all, he realized he had never seen the expanse of Matt’s legs, toned, pale and well-defined, so soft looking. He’s wearing cotton shorts, </span>
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">fucking cotton shorts, </span>
  </em>
  <span class="tm5">warm ankle socks and a red sweater one size too big, covering his hands from the biting cold air. Red stops in his movements, sniffing the air quietly, head tilting in the way that indicates he’s hearing something. He smiles carefully, eyelashes covering hazel, glazed over eyes. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You know I can tell, right?” he asks quietly, stepping carefully closer to Frank, as he finally makes a move to finish descending the stairs. His heartbeat is thundering, the </span>
  <em>
    <span class="tm6">thump, thump</span>
  </em>
  <span class="tm5"> caressing Matt’s ears. It’s comforting, anchoring, and arousing to hear how it quickens as their distance steadily diminishes. “I can’t see but... I can hear your heartbeat, smell... feel the heat” Frank’s hands slowly comes up to touch Matt’s face. The air seems to shift around him.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Matty... you gotta know... I’m not really a man of one-night stands” he whispers, coming closer, lips hovering so, so close, but not yet touching the smaller one’s. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Good” Matt whispers back “I’m not either”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Even if... I’m who I am?” the elder asks, insecurity lacing his words in a way they never had before. Frank had always been a man of control, over himself and what surrounds him.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Especially because you’re you, Frank”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           It’s not at all what Murdock thought it would be. It’s not desperate, quick and sloppy. Frank kisses like he wants to make him come apart, thread by thread. He presses their lips close and feels the softness of the skin with hints of his tongue, until Matty gives him the space he asks for. And then, he kisses him thoroughly, tongue weaving inside his mouth, toying with his, caressing him, making him shiver all over. His body is hot, but only heats further, trembling hands finding the man’s biceps to hold himself into. Wandering to his strong shoulders and tilting his head back, allowing him to take him apart.</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           It’s no secret he’s sensitive, and Frank catches on to that quickly. One hand cradling the back of his head, caressing his hair, while other is carefully tracing his jawline and neck to his exposed collarbone. He trembles and whimpers quietly into the other man’s mouth. And the man’s large hands are careful as they lead him, sitting himself on the sofa and then pulling the smaller one into his lap. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           He straddles him and breathes deeply into his scent. Coffee, gunpowder, cigarettes, leather, soap, musk. His blood is pumping strong under his skin and it feels heady under his fingertips. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “I’ll be waiting for that date, Frank” he whispers quietly into the other one’s mouth. Frank chuckles.           </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “You got it, sweetheart” and he kisses him again. </span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “And the flowers?”</span>
</p><p class="Normal">
  <span class="tm5">           “Not lavender or roses, I imagine” he mutters back, voice deep and rumbling in his chest. Matt shivers into his hold, large hands and strong arms encasing him into safe, smothering heat. </span>
</p>
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